


Hope You Don't Mind (If You Stay By My Side)

by twentyseven



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyseven/pseuds/twentyseven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The call comes late Friday night after another home win, this time against Milwaukee.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope You Don't Mind (If You Stay By My Side)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tardistoasgard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardistoasgard/gifts).



> Let me start by saying I was innocently (hah) scrolling through my tumblr dashboard, when I see [this picture](http://beneager.tumblr.com/post/46829403592), and wow, I had to double-take because that looks like Morin and Pirri? I showed it so Sam, whom this story is dedicated to, and she pretty much assumed I was going to be writing something because of it. And well, she was right. The title is from Selena Gomez's song _We Own the Night_ , which was on repeat for most of the time I was writing.

The team gets the win they needed against the Marlies, so naturally the locker room is loud with music and voices and buzzing with excitement. Most of the guys are dressed but still hanging around, waiting to see if someone suggests a group dinner and some drinks. Naturally, Pirri steps up and declares _Tilted Kilt_ the place to be. No one’s surprised, and Jeremy rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh. He stands, slings his bag over his shoulder, and is about to follow Pirri out to his truck when Coach Dent yells for him to wait.  
  
  
“Can I get you in my office for a second, Mo’?” he asks, and he doesn’t look or seem upset, and even though he played a really great game (two goals and no penalties) Jeremy’s still a little nervous. He drops his bag and shoots a look at Pirri, who tells him he’ll wait and gives him a reassuring smile, and then he follows Coach.  
  
  
He slumps into the seat in front of the desk, and Coach—he leans against it all casual, and he’s still smiling, but Jeremy’s still kind of freaking out. He’s going through the last few days, wondering if there’s anything he did wrong—this is just like being sent to the principal’s office and—  
  
  
“You might get called up,” Coach says, and Jeremy snaps his head up, eyes wide, because _what_? Coach grins wider. “Nothing’s set in stone,” he explains. “Sharp and Hossa are still out and if it happens, it’ll be this weekend. They mentioned the Detroit game, actually. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”  
  
  
Jeremy nods, a smile pulling at his lips because even though he loves being in Rockford—loves the city, loves the fans, loves his teammates—it’s _Chicago_ and the _Blackhawks_. He shakes Coach’s hand and heads out, picking up his bag, and pushing his way into the hall.  
  
  
Pirri’s leaning against the wall, ankles crossed, his phone in his hand, and it’s chirping with sounds of the same game he’s been addicted to for weeks. He smiles and asks, “Everything good?” Jeremy only nods and follows him.  
  
  
-  
  
  
They take over an entire corner of the restaurant—thank god it’s a Wednesday, Jeremy thinks as they push through the door like a pack of animals, loud and boisterous and attracting the attention of the entire place. Hutton declares Jeremy the buyer of the first round, having scored the game winner and all, and “What the fuck, Hutts? You assholes should be treating me!” Everyone ignores him, because you know, _assholes_.  
  
  
He squeezes into the booth, Pirri pushing in after him until they’re pressed together from foot to knee, knee to hip, hip to shoulder. It’s tight and hot, but then the pitchers are coming and appetizers are ordered, and Jeremy vows to only focus on that night, being out with his teammates, and having a good time.  
  
  
After a lot of food and his fourth beer, Jeremy can’t stop yawning. He pulls back from the conversation, rests his head against the wall behind him, and closes his eyes. He smiles because he can hear Stants chirping Flick about not being able to pick up since he cut his long hair and cropped it short. Paradis, who has a girl with him at the table, snorts and offers his agreement. Jeremy smiles wider because this is his family, and he may not be sure how it happened, but it did, and he wouldn’t change it for anything.  
  
  
“Wake up, Mo’!”  
  
  
He opens his eyes and sits up, and the whole team is looking at him. He turns to see Pirri at the bar, a gorgeous blonde girl standing in front of him, talking to him as she smiles prettily, but he’s looking back at Jeremy instead. He excuses himself from the girl, who frowns and heads back to her friends, and then he’s crossing the restaurant and pushing back into the booth and against Jeremy’s side.  
  
  
“You good?” he asks, nudging the glass of water he had been holding toward Jeremy, and he stares curiously at it, because what the fuck? When has Pirri ever been the responsible one? No one seems to notice, or at least they don’t care, and Jeremy shrugs and takes the glass, gulps down half of it and feels better nearly instantly as the coldness snakes its way down his throat and into his stomach, a welcome relief from the heat of being crammed against so many people.  
  
  
“I think I’m taking this one home,” Pirri says, sliding from the booth and pulling Jeremy out after him. They’re not the first to leave tonight, but when they’re usually amongst the last, everyone turns and takes notice. Stants tells them he won’t be coming home, and then he’s back to staring at his phone, waiting for word that his girl’s gotten home from work and he can come over. St. Pierre decides to be a good captain and asks Pirri if he’s good to drive, because Jeremy obviously isn’t. He laughs and tells them he only had the one beer with his burger, and Jeremy’s confused again, because _what even_?  
  
  
He feels Pirri’s arm slide around his waist, feels the coolness of the outside air, and then the passenger seat of Pirri’s truck comfortable against his back, and then he’s closing his eyes and falling asleep.  
  
  
-  
  
  
If they hadn’t been alone, Pirri would have hit him or yelled to get him awake, but it _is_ just them—and Jeremy’s always known a different side of Pirri, the side that’s soft and sweet and quiet and so unlike how he acts around others—so he coaxes him out of sleep slowly and gently until Jeremy’s opening his eyes on his own to see Pirri leaning against the open car door, a wide grin on his face and his eyes laced with amusement.  
  
  
“I can’t carry you, buddy,” he laughs, slapping Jeremy’s thigh and moving to let him climb out on his own. He’s surprised at how much better he feels, the glass of water and a fifteen minute nap having apparently chased off the effects of the beers. He smiles sleepily at Pirri and follows him up to their door.  
  
  
He shuffles into the bathroom first thing, takes a piss, brushes his teeth, and sheds his sweaty clothes in the corner. Pirri’s waiting for him in the hall for the second time that night, and he’s also dressed down, and got a bottle of water and some aspirin in his hand. Jeremy grins sheepishly and takes them. Pirri follows him into his room, sits down in his computer chair while Jeremy sits on the edge of his bed, tosses the pills into his mouth and gulps down more water.  
  
  
“Want to tell me what’s up with you?” he asks, and Jeremy has to smile again because Pirri always knows.  
  
  
“Dent says I might be getting the call this weekend,” he says, because Pirri will get it. And he does. His eyes widen and his smile is huge, and he’s surging up from the chair to push up against Jeremy, foot to knee, knee to hip, hip to shoulder once again. And he throws an arm around him and pulls him in closer, hugs him tight and tells him it’s about damn time. Jeremy smiles and feels the heat on his cheeks.  
  
  
He closes the water bottle and throws himself back onto the bed, stretches until he can put the bottle on the nightstand, pulls himself up until his head’s on the pillow. Pirri shakes his head and flops down next to him.  
  
  
“I feel like you should be more excited about getting the call,” he says, turns his head to look at Jeremy, shoves up against him teasingly.  
  
  
“I am!” he protests. “I swear I am, it’s the NHL, and the Hawks are the best team in the league… to get to be a part of that would be amazing. It’s just,” Jeremy pauses. “Playoffs are coming, and we’re doing stuff _here_ , and I’m going to be bummed to leave, no matter how happy I am to go, if that makes sense?”  
  
  
PIrri turns onto his side, props his head in his hand, throws his other arm over Jeremy’s stomach and grins. “I get it,” he says, shrugs a bit.  “You’re going to miss me.” Jeremy snorts and pushes him off, but he rolls right back against him. “Admit it,” he says.  
  
  
“Oh yes, Pirs, how am I _ever_ going to cope without you?”  
  
  
Pirri punches him in the ribs, rolls further until he’s on top of Jeremy. His skin is hot against his own and his weight is solid, holding Jeremy in place, and he couldn’t move if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He smiles up at him, brings his hand up, rests it along Pirri’s back. Pirri grins and reaches toward the nightstand, grabs Jeremy’s phone and clicks open the camera.  
  
  
“Smile,” he says, tucking his face against Jeremy’s chest and holding the phone against the headboard. Jeremy smiles, because this is so dumb, but it’s also _so him_. Despite being the master of selfies, he managed to cut off half of Jeremy’s face, but you can see his smile, and isn’t that what matters? He thinks it is. Pirri drops the phone back onto the table and tucks himself further against him.  
  
  
“I will miss you, you know.”  
  
  
Jeremy bites his lip, shakes his head. It figures—after years of this, this closeness, this silent understanding, this _thing_ between them—they would finally get there just days before Jeremy’s most likely leaving. He wraps his arm tighter around Pirri, gets a smile in return.  
  
  
“Can I stay here?” Pirri asks, a hopeful look on his face that cuts right into Jeremy. He nods, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches down to the end of his bed, pulls up the sheets he didn’t bother to straighten out that morning and pulls them up over them both. He turns off the lamp, covers the room in darkness, and he’s asleep within minutes, warm and comfortable and tangled up with Pirri.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Pirri’s still in Jeremy’s bed when he wakes up Thursday morning, half on top of him and holding him tight. Jeremy rubs his eyes and smiles sleepily, pushing into Pirri’s hold. He’s glad he remembered to close the shades on the window, because the sun is already up and the room is bright enough, bathed in a soft yellow glow from the sun shining through the beige fabric. The house is quiet, but his phone is steadily buzzing on the nightstand, reminding him of a message received sometime after he fell asleep.  
  
  
He’s not surprised it was Stants telling them he wouldn’t be coming home until later in the day. As he settles back against the bed, Pirri stirs. He pushes his face into Jeremy’s shoulder and lets out a low grumble as he stretches.  
  
  
“Time is it,” he mumbles out, lifting his head to look at Jeremy through squinted eyes.  
  
  
“Twenty to eight,” he answers.  
  
  
“Day off,” Pirri sighs, falling back to the bed and pulling Jeremy with him. He grins and lets himself go pliant in his arms. He could get used to this really easily, waking up wrapped up with his best friend; he’s wanted it for so long, and it’s even better than he’d imagined it. With the bed warm, skin on skin, and the room bright, it’s straight out of Jeremy’s thoughts, but it’s _real_ and he’s going to savor it as long as it lasts. Luckily for him, Pirri doesn’t seem like he’s moving anytime soon.  
  
  
He lets his eyes fall closed again, but they don’t stay that way because he can feel Pirri looking at him. He turns his head, a questioning look on his face, but Pirri just grins, pushing Jeremy onto his back and climbing on top of him. “Pirs?” he asks, but the only answer he gets is Pirri’s lips on his.  
  
  
Jeremy presses back quickly, his hands finding Pirri’s sides and holding him in place, needing him to know that he wants this, wants it so bad, wants it forever. Pirri grins against his mouth, and Jeremy has to too, and that’s when Pirri deepens it, presses back harder, letting his lips fall open and slot against Jeremy’s, and his then his tongue pushes against Jeremy’s bottom lip, and it’s the best thing. Kissing Pirri _is the best thing_ , and he’s imagined this too, and it’s also even better in reality, morning breath and all.  
  
  
“Want you so much,” Pirri tells him, his voice quiet and breath hot against his cheek, but then he’s sitting up and Jeremy tries to grab at him to tell him not to go, but he’s not leaving; he’s sliding until his ass is on Jeremy’s thighs, and he pulls Jeremy up to sit until their hips are slotted together, and _oh_.  
  
  
“I’ve always wanted you,” Jeremy feels the need to say, and he’s guessing it’s a good thing from the way Pirri’s breath hitches,  his eyes widen, and he looks so goddamn _happy_.  
  
  
“Fuck,” he says, “me, too. Always, Jere, always,” and then he’s kissing Jeremy again, and it’s more than before, straight into open mouths and tongues, and it’s a promise of more. Jeremy _needs_ it to be a promise of more. He pulls away from Pirri’s mouth, lets his lips find his neck, and that gets the reaction he’s looking for. Pirri’s hips move forward and he lets out a low groan as their hard cocks brush against each other, the friction between two layers of cotton so good, yet not enough.  
  
  
Jeremy lets a hand fall from Pirri’s side to his thigh, and he presses his fingertips into it, coaxing another noise out of him as he keeps sucking at the soft flesh behind his ear. Pirri’s hips slide forward again, and they both hiss at the contact, and Jeremy pulls back  to look at Pirri, and he looks so wound up and _ready_. Jeremy can’t help but let his eyes trace over every inch of him, of this, of _them_ ; he wants to memorize it and keep it forever.  
  
  
Pirri bites his lip as he watches Jeremy’s hand slide up from his thigh to his hip, and when he looks up to catch Jeremy’s eyes, he nods, and that’s all Jeremy needs before he’s slipping his hand into Pirri’s briefs and wrapping a hand around his cock. Pirri’s head falls back, his hands grip onto Jeremy’s shoulders, and his hips slide forward with every push of Jeremy’s hand. His touch is light, and it’s obvious Pirri wants more, but Jeremy’s got other ideas and hopes to fuck that Pirri’s on the same page.  
  
  
He leans up to kiss him, and Pirri kisses back instantly. “Please, please, Jere,” he urges, but Jeremy falls back and brings Pirri with him. Their hips slot together again, and Jeremy’s hand is still stroking Pirri’s dick, and he pushes harder into it now that he can, and Jeremy feels every thrust against his own dick, and he could get off just like this, but he’s waited for this too long to let it go down like that. He removes his hand, and Pirri whines, but when Jeremy starts tugging his briefs down, he gets with it and helps before turning on Jeremy and removing his.  
  
  
And then there’s nothing between them, and Pirri holds himself up and pushes his hips up and against Jeremy, watching with a look of awe in his eyes as their cocks slide together. Jeremy throws his head back, arches up into it. “God, fuck,” he swears, biting back a moan as Pirri’s lips land on his jaw and his teeth nip at him. “Pirs, I—“  
  
  
Pirri quiets him with his mouth, his tongue licking into Jeremy’s, and _fuck_. Everything is so good, and all Jeremy can want is _more._ He puts a hand on Pirri’s chest, letting the words tumble from his mouth through heavy breaths. “I want—”  
  
  
“What? What do you want?” Pirri asks, and he’s almost frenzied with it, like he needs to know _now_ so he can give Jeremy everything.  
  
  
“Fuck me, Pirs, _please_.”  
  
  
Pirri freezes, and Jeremy would think he said the wrong thing or maybe said it too soon, but Pirri’s eyes are blown out and his cock twitches against his leg, and Jeremy’s so ready for this, ready for Pirri to _have_ him, to take everything, because Jeremy wants to give it to him.  
  
  
“I— _fuck_ , Jere,” he pants, his head falling to Jeremy’s shoulder. “Are you sure? I mean—have you ever—?”  
  
  
Jeremy bites his lip, taking a deep breath before he answers, “Only by myself.” Pirri’s eyes snap up to look at him and his mouth falls open, and Jeremy can tell he _needs_ to know more. “I thought… about this a lot? I knew I wanted it, I was curious, and I wanted to _know_ ; wanted to know if I’d like it.”  
  
  
Pirri cuts him off with a kiss, a kiss so hard it almost _hurts_ but Jeremy likes it, presses back just as hard. Pirri pulls back panting, and he moans low in his throat. “You fucked yourself thinking of me?”  
  
  
“Of _us_ ,” Jeremy corrects, pulling Pirri in. “I want this. I _need_ this, and it’s _you._ It’s always been you, just _please_.”  
  
  
“ _Fucking christ_ ,” he spits out. “Okay, oh god, _okay_. Do you—?”  
  
  
Jeremy nods to the nightstand, and Pirri throws himself to the side and gets a hand in the drawer. Jeremy bites his lip when Pirri’s eyes widen because he _knows_ what he found in there, but he just shrugs when Pirri looks back at him. “Well fuck,” he mumbles out, before diving back into the drawer and coming out with lube and a condom.  
  
  
Jeremy watches as he puts them to the side and slides down his body. He knows what’s coming, but he’s still not prepared for when Pirri sucks the head of his cock into his mouth. He grips the sheets tightly in his hands, and he throws his head back. Pirri takes more into his mouth before pulling up and off with an obscene pop and swirling his tongue around the leaking tip.  
  
  
“So fucking beautiful,” Pirri says, and Jeremy knows he must have been flushed before, but he can _feel_ that he is now, but Pirri just grins and shakes his head, lunging up to give him a slow and dirty kiss before he slides back down, and with the lube in hand. Jeremy pushes himself further onto the pillow because whatever happens, he wants to _see_ Pirri while he’s doing it, because fuck, he’s still trying to commit this to memory.  
  
  
He watches as Pirri spreads the lube generously onto his fingers, and Jeremy bends his legs and spreads them apart, waiting. Pirri presses a kiss to his inner thigh as he pushes his index finger in, slowly but firmly, and his eyes get wide. “Fuck,” he curses, watching as Jeremy takes him in before he slides it back out.  
  
  
“Come on,” Jeremy urges. “Give me more.” Pirri looks like he’s going to protest, but his eyes glance toward the nightstand and his cheeks get red like he remembers what’s in there and that Jeremy’s done this to himself, thinking about _this_. He groans and presses in another finger along with the first. “ _Yes_ ,” he lets out, along with a groan, and Pirri’s swearing under his breath again.  
  
  
He leans up, kisses Jeremy as he works the two fingers in him, and it’s an awkward stretch, but Pirri’s kissing him like he _needs_ it and if Jeremy’s being honest, he needs it too. He rocks his hips down onto Pirri’s fingers, and he grabs at his biceps. “Give me _more_ ,” he says again, because he knows his body and he knows what he wants.  
  
  
Settling between his legs again, Pirri lets a third finger slip in, and now Jeremy’s really moaning, really rocking into it. Pirri’s mouth is hung open and he’s staring at his fingers working into Jeremy, and fuck, Jeremy wishes he could see too. He arches his back, pushes down with his hips until Pirri’s fingers are as deep as they can get.  
  
  
Jeremy sits up and pulls Pirri into a kiss, wet and dirty just how he already knows he likes it with him. Pirri keeps thrusting the three fingers up and into him, but Jeremy knows he’s ready, and he needs Pirri in him _now_ , and he tells him as much. With fumbling fingers he puts the condom on and strokes his cock with his lubed up hand before he’s kneeling between Jeremy’s legs.  
  
  
“You want it like this?” he asks.  
  
  
Jeremy nods, grabbing a pillow and putting it under his hips. “Want to see you,” he says in response, and that gets another curse out of Pirri. “Come _on_ , I am so ready; want you inside of me, _now_.” And Pirri doesn’t waste any time, aligning himself and sliding in slowly. They both take pause once Pirri’s in him, filling him up, because fuck, this is really happening. It’s _finally_ happening,  
  
  
” _Brandon_ ,” he moans and that makes Pirri thrust back in with purpose, and Jeremy makes note to call him by his name again and again if it means getting that reaction. Jeremy meets Pirri’s thrusts every time, pushing back against him, pulls him in, and urges him on. Pirri’s got a tight grip on Jeremy’s thighs, and there’s a steady stream of curses falling from his mouth.  
  
  
“So fucking beautiful,” Pirri whispers, mouthing along Jeremy’s stomach, and he never thought he would appreciate being called that, but from Pirri and in this situation, Jeremy fucking preens with it, grins and leans up for a kiss that Pirri’s more than willing to give. His hips stutter in their rhythm, and Jeremy knows he’s close, doesn’t blame him for only being able to last so long when this is all so overwhelming, and more than anything Jeremy could have imagined. Pirri’s in all of his senses; his body heavy against his and his skin salty with a sheen of sweat.  
  
  
“Come on, Brandon, come, _yeah_ ,” he coaxes, and then Pirri comes with a final hard thrust, and Jeremy takes it, rocks his hips to get more, and he kisses Pirri because that’s all he wants to do right now, even when his own cock is so hard and leaking against his stomach it’s almost painful, but the only thing he’s thinking about is _BrandonBrandonBrandon_.  
  
  
“Fuck,” Pirri whispers, his voice already hoarse with exertion, and Jeremy can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. He pushes himself up onto his hands and slides his hips down, slowly pulling out, and he pauses to take a look at Jeremy and what is no doubt the obscene sight of him stretched wide from Pirri’s cock, He pulls the condom off and drops it off the side of the bed, and that’s going to suck later, but Jeremy can’t bring himself to care when Pirri’s taking his cock into his mouth and swallowing him down.  
  
  
“Oh shit,” he groans, throwing his head back against the pillow. Pirri’s tongue runs up the underside of his cock, and that’s pretty much all it takes, after being keyed up for so long. He comes, and Pirri sucks harder, coaxing it all out of him and swallowing it down. “Fuck,” he says, his eyes wide as he watches Pirri lick him and clean him up.  
  
  
With a grin, Pirri slides up the bed and presses his mouth to Jeremy’s, and damn tasting himself is something he thought he’d have to get used to, but when it’s him in _Pirri’s mouth_ it’s automatically the best thing ever. This whole morning as been the best thing ever, and he’s so fucking glad it’s an off-day. He decides he’s not leaving the bed until he absolutely _has_ to and voices this to Pirri, who wholeheartedly agrees, and curls up around him without another word.  
  
  
-  
  
  
The call comes late Friday night after another home win, this time against Milwaukee. Jeremy and Pirri are in Jeremy’s bed, breathing still erratic and bodies still warm and slick with sweat. He’s pulled into Pirri’s side, and his breath is hot against Jeremy’s neck, and he’s pretty sure he never wants to leave this bed. And that’s when his phone rings. He groans and contemplates ignoring it, but it’s nearing midnight, and what else could it be besides something important?  
  
  
He sure as hell wasn’t expecting Stan Bowman on the other line, telling him he’s ‘sorry for calling so late’ and that he’s ‘needed in Chicago first thing in the morning’. He doesn’t remember much of what he said in response, but that it was a lot of _thank yous_ and _yes sirs_. Pirri’s grinning from next to him, and the second Jeremy throws his phone back down, he’s leaning in to kiss him, soft and slow.  
  
  
Pulling himself away from Pirri is the worst thing in the world, but he needs to get cleaned up and he needs to pack. He’s got to get to Chicago, join the team, and fly to Detroit. When he comes back from the bathroom, cleaned up, in a fresh pair of boxers, and damp cloth in his hand, Pirri’s kicked the covers to the floor and is stretched out in the bed, all tan and naked and fucking _obscene_. It’s quite the incentive to pack quickly and get his ass back into bed.  
  
  
In the morning, Pirri lets him go only after a kiss on their front steps, and he’s still standing there when Jeremy pulls out of the driveway and takes off down their street.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Sunday evening finds Jeremy in a familiar place, tucked into a booth at a sports bar and surrounded by teammates, but instead of Rockford, he’s in Chicago. Their blowout in Detroit is at the forefront of their minds as they eat and drink and laugh and talk, and Jeremy is pleased by how much it feels like Rockford, by how much he feels like one of the boys, even if it’s his first game with them this season.  
  
  
Bollig is huge and hulking and familiar at his right, and Saad is quiet and unassuming and familiar at his left. Tucked between them, it feels just like it did during the lockout. Despite his injury, Sharpy came out to meet them after they flew in following the game, and he was quick to make sure Jeremy was twenty one before he bought him a beer “for your sick fucking goal in a sick fucking game” as Kaner had put it. He can’t keep the smile off his face as he drinks it, because he _earned_ it.  
  
  
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he’s quick to check it, smiling when it sees it’s Pirri. They’ve already talked a couple times that day; before the game to let Jeremy know he was going to be watching, and after to congratulate him on the win and his goal. Now, Pirri texts that _The Goonies_ is on and watching with Stants alone isn’t much fun, ‘cause he doesn’t know the dialogue by heart or the inside jokes like Jeremy does. Pirri’s hopeful he’ll get the d-man to do the _truffle shuffle_ though, and at that, Jeremy bursts out laughing.  
  
  
Bollig grabs his phone and reads the text, because he laughs too, and Jeremy’s too busy trying to _stop_ laughing like an obnoxious child that he doesn’t notice Bollig scrolling through the rest of his messages, and yeah, Pirri and him having been texting since he arrived in Chicago, and more than a few of them are going to make it blantantly obvious about what’s going on. If those alone weren’t enough, Pirri set his contact picture as the one he’d taken of them in Jeremy’s bed just days ago, all smiling and shirtless and wrapped up in each other. Bollig’s eyebrows are raised high, and his lips are pulled into a smirk, but he looks… happy and pleased and not at all surprised.  
  
  
He says nothing to Jeremy, only hands his phone back, but when they’re leaving and he’s about to follow Saad to his car, Bollig _and_ Shaw stop him, wide grins on both their faces.  
  
  
“Fucking finally, eh?” Shawsy laughs, pulling him into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles against Jeremy’s skull. Bollig laughs loud and pulls Jeremy out and into a tight hug.  
  
  
“Seriously though, you two finally got your act together?” he asks, and Jeremy scoffs, pushing him away.  
  
  
“Like you two can talk,” he defends and watches Bollig wrap an arm around Shawsy’s waist and wave Jeremy off as they go their own way home. Jeremy shakes his head and catches up with Saad, who looks amused but also like he’s wondering why all of his teammates are fucking gay for each other. He slaps Jeremy on the back though, offers a nod and a smile, and Jeremy knows they’re cool.  
  
  
-  
  
  
On Tuesday, Hossa is activated from the IR, and Jeremy is on his way back to Rockford with Hayes asleep in the passenger seat. He’s not mad or frustrated, and he knew he was just a fill-in for guys with injuries. He left satisfied knowing he played two good games and got back on management’s radar and not just from second-hand information from Coach Dent. After he drops Jimmy off, he heads home, and can’t keep the grin off of his face when he closes the trunk and sees Pirri leaning in the doorway, just like he had days before when Jeremy was leaving.  
  
  
“Hey,” he smiles, uncrossing his arms from in front of his chest and grabbing at Jeremy. Pirri’s skin is warm and damp as if he’s just out of the shower. Jeremy falls into him, nose pressed into his neck, and he closes his eyes and takes in the feel of the hug, because they can do this now. They’re finally _there_ , and Jeremy can have this, can take everything Pirri’s willing to give, and he can even ask for more, because they are a _them_ and it’s so fucking good.  
  
  
He tells Pirri as much, and he gets a laugh in return, but when he looks up Pirri’s grinning wide and his eyes are bright, and he’s nodding. Jeremy has to kiss his smile because it might be one of his favorite things ever.  
  
  
“So fucking good,” he repeats, and he lets Pirri pull him into the house.


End file.
